New chapter! I hope you enjoy. Please make sure to read and review!
Also, here is a little brief history: This fic is set in Season 3. I was kinda unsure if I should do that or not, but I think it works. Tell me what you think!
Anyway, I will see you again soon!
"What do you mean their ship may have crashed?!" King Louis yelled, his eyes wide. "Explain yourself, Treville!"
The Minister took a deep breath. "Your Majesty, as you now, Her Majesty, the Queen, had decided to take a small trip, a vacation if you will, and took the Musketeer Aramis with her. From what we have figured out, the ship was destroyed during this previous storm. We have found a crew member, who had washed up on shore a few hours ago. He does not know if Her Majesty and the Musketeer have survived." He paused. "But if they are indeed alive, Aramis will get our Queen to safety. It is his duty … And he will not fail it."
Louis growled softly. "Very well, Treville, I will take your word on it. But if your Musketeer does come back to Paris without the Queen of France with him, unharmed, the first thing he will face is the noose."
Treville took a step back. He bowed, disbelief filling up inside him. "Very well, Majesty. I will keep you informed."
"You had better," Louis warned.
He stood up from his throne and marched out of the room. "The Musketeer Aramis," he muttered to himself. "Why did I even allow this? He and Anne … Anne and him. Oh God, that Spanish…"
He continued mumbling until he reached his room. He plopped onto his bed and let out a breath. As he thought of ways to punish Aramis, he began falling asleep.
In the meantime, Treville rushed to get to the Musketeer's garrison. "Athos!" he yelled. "Porthos! d'Artagnan!"
The three men walked out to meet their former Captain, and Treville was quick to explain the situation. When he was done, he watched as Porthos dropped onto a bench.
The big man held his head in his hands, sighing. "This can't be happening," he said. "This can't be happening."
"Porthos, Aramis knows what to do in these situations," Athos explained. "The two of them will be just fine, I'm sure."
"There's more," said Treville. "The King suspects Aramis and the Queen, he knows. He has warned me that if Her Majesty comes out of this harmed, our Musketeer will be executed."
D'Artagnan pounded his fist against the table. "That is truly ridiculous!" he exclaimed.
"Do not worry," Athos continued. "Aramis will get the Queen back safe. He knows what he needs to do, and he will do everything to do it."
They floated in the middle of nowhere for hours on end. As Anne slept, Aramis kept track of the time- or… tried to. After some time, he began trying to make a plan… a plan to survive. He would get his lover to safety no matter what, he kept telling himself.
But slowly, exhaustion had started taking its toll against him, and he had to force himself to stay awake.
"Aramis?" Anne suddenly asked.
He looked down. "Yes, Anne?" he said, unable to hide the exhaustion in his voice. "And before you say anything, I did sleep … or, I tried to." He smirked. "But I couldn't."
As Anne sat up, she noticed that lying beside Aramis, was a sheathed dagger. She sighed. "You should have slept. It would have done you some good."
The man chuckled. "Anne, I am fine," he said. "And I will be fine. Do not worry about me." He smiled, and then yawned. "You know, I wonder how the Dauphin is doing," he said quietly.
"And Louis," Anne added. "I know he does not care about me, but I am sure that his jealousy will get the better of him. I afraid of what is to happen to you if we get home."
Aramis shook his head. "I can take care of myself," he said. "I can handle His Majesty." He yawned once more, and he closed his eyes. "Hmm," he moaned. "Maybe I do need some rest." Just then, the sound of thunder sounded. Anne felt Aramis flinch.
She sat up. "And what did I tell you?" She smirked, but her eyes softened. "You need sleep, Aramis."
The man nodded, his eyes full of exhaustion. "I know," he whispered, throwing his head back. "I know. I only hope that there will be no upcoming storm." He reached for their water skin, and some dry food. He let Anne take a small drink, and then gave her the food. Once they ate, the two of them got comfortable, with Anne curled up against Aramis' body, and Aramis protectively holding onto Anne.
"Good night, Aramis," the Queen finally said, taking his hand.
The Musketeer brought her small hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. "Good night, Anne," he whispered, finally letting himself to fall asleep.
Anne woke up to a freezing wave crashing on top of her. Her eyes darted towards Aramis, who was covering her as best he could, trying to keep her safe. After a couple of long hours, the storm ended, and Aramis finally rolled off of Anne, curling into himself beside her. "Anne, are you alright?" His voice was hoarse, as if he had just eaten sandpaper.
When not hearing a reply, he asked again. He received quiet hum in return. He felt her crawl over to him, one gentle hand running up and down his strong arm, the other in his soaked hair. He closed his eyes, feeling the warm sun shining over him. Anne carefully propped him against the boat, looking him over. She quickly reached for their water skin, letting Aramis take a few small sips.
The water felt so nice against his dry throat; he almost whimpered when it was taken away. The next thing he knew, she was sitting against him, drawing patterns on his chest with her finger. His body was shaking violently, but he refused to let out any sound that would uncover that.
"Aramis," Anne said. "It's alright. You don't have to hide anything from me."
The Musketeer didn't reply… he couldn't. He closed his eyes, trying hard to stop shivering. "Dear God," he murmured. "I need to get you out of here." He rested his head on the boat's rim, keeping his eyes shut. "I need … to get you … out of here."